


Still Not Gay

by katyb64



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Clothed Sex, M/M, Teenlock, Underage Sex, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 08:07:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1183904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katyb64/pseuds/katyb64
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is injured after a rugby game and Sherlock offers a massage. Smut ensues. Huzzah.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Still Not Gay

John was lying face down on his bed, heat pack carefully placed on his bare lower back. He had really done a number on himself, tackling that guardsman. It had won them the game, though, so he counted it as a necessary sacrifice. Sherlock, who had just arrived at John's house as he usually did after matches, did not agree. “You should stop playing that stupid game, it's boring, and if it messes you up that badly I don't see how you could possibly enjoy it.”

“I'm not quitting rugby, Sherlock.” He mumbled against his pillow, voiced strained. “I'm the captain of the team.” He winced as Sherlock sat down on the edge of the bed, jostling him. He turned his head to the side to glare at him. “Watch it, would you? I'm really sore.”

Sherlock sighed. “You wouldn't be if you'd listened when I told you not to try out in the first place.” He grumbled. Sherlock had just known it was a bad idea. Not only was it boring and stupid (and now, apparently, detrimental to John's health), but it seriously cut into the time he and John spent together. Sherlock rarely went to the matches because they were ridiculously boring and a few of John's team-members were really not fond of him in ways that might lead to a punch to the face if he wasn't careful. So, Sherlock just went to John's house after the fact, and usually they'd work on homework or John would force him to watch what he deemed 'essential' movies. Occasionally, if John was willing, they'd even work on some of Sherlock's less dangerous experiments. It was more John watching him and complimenting him than actual joint-work, but they both enjoyed in nonetheless. Unfortunately for Sherlock, today John seemed fairly stationary. It looked like they wouldn't be doing much at all.

John sighed exasperatedly. “Look, I enjoy the sport, okay? And I'm damn good at it.” He closed his eyes, the pain making him irritable and tired. “I can't fight about this right now. Maybe you should just go home, I'm bad company.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “I'm not leaving you here in pain. I want to help. How can I help?”

“Help.” John repeated, incredulous. “You've never wanted to help with anything in your life.”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. “Of course I want to help, you're in pain.” When John kept staring disbelievingly at him, he added: “I want you to not be in pain so you'll stop being so crabby.”

This made John chuckle, then wince from the movement. “Yeah right, you big softy.” He teased, smiling amiably at him. “Mm... I don't know. I've already taken Tylenol, I've got the heat pack, I'm relaxed... What else is there to do for a pulled muscle?”

“Don't people usually massage those?” Sherlock wondered, staring at the bare expanse of John's back as he suggested it. The idea of getting his hands on it was very appealing.

John made a face that Sherlock couldn't quite decipher, equal parts confused, concerned, and... quite possibly interested. “Well, I mean... if you wanted to... it would probably help with the pulled muscle, and, ah...” A blush coloured his cheeks.

“John,” Sherlock said calmly. “It's just a massage to help your back, relax.” he reassured him, assuming he was worried about being presumed gay or something to that affect. John was always so worried about that. Sherlock wasn't, if people wanted to assume he and John were in a relationship, that was quite alright with him. He wanted to assume they were in a relationship, too. Of course, all of John's decrees of 'NOT GAY!' made that seem quite impossible, and so he contented himself with getting as close to John as he could without actually doing anything he really wanted to do. It was frustrating, but he'd take whatever was offered as far as John was concerned. He got onto his knees and shuffled over to the blond.

“Do you even know how to do that? I don't want you making it worse.” John glanced back at him.

“Yes, John.” Sherlock said irritatedly, a bit offended at the lack of trust. “I know every single bone and muscle in the back, I know how they break, how they sprain, how they get bruised, how they get pulled. I know how to repair them. I'm perfectly capable.” Sherlock settled his hands on John's shoulders, working his tense muscles with what felt like practised skill. His knowledge of anatomy made him a natural, he had been quite right about that. John hummed, eyes sliding shut.

“Okay, fine... Thank you.”

“Of course...” Sherlock muttered, focusing on the task quite literally at hand. He kneaded John's back with his fingers, working his way lower down. God, it was absolutely wonderful to feel John's skin hot under his palms, tension slowly melting away. The teen in question turned his head again, pressing his face back against the pillow and making a low, pleasured noise. Sherlock saw the blush working its way up his neck, and he smirked. “Relax.” He said again, voice softer. “Just a massage...” He slid his hands lower, setting the heat pack off to the side and carefully beginning to work the muscles of the injured part of John's back, right at the base of his spine. Then, John groaned in earnest, half in pain, half in pleasure. Sherlock dug in deeper, thoroughly easing the knotted muscle.

John shifted his hips, and Sherlock grinned when he figured out why. He pretended he hadn't noticed, certainly not wanting to discourage it. Instead, he ran his hands up his back and down again, caressing rather than massaging. He resumed kneading immediately after, but he could tell John had liked it, a small sigh having escaped his lips, not entirely muffled by the pillow. He shifted again when Sherlock turned his hands to the side, digging in with his thumbs and massaging in small circles. He groaned again, far more pleasure than pain now. “John...” Sherlock murmured, leaning in close to his ear. “Maybe... maybe it's not just a massage. Is that okay?” He ceased movement while he waited for John to respond, sighing in relief when he nodded without removing his head from the pillow. “Good.” He smiled, hooking his leg over John's hips and straddling him to get a better angle, beginning to press his fingers into John's skin again. He leaned down and pressed a feather-light kiss to John's shoulder, making the other boy gasp. He kept pressing kisses over his back, John making delightful new noises with each one as they grew in pressure and length.

Sherlock grew bolder, after pressing a kiss to the middle of his back licking a trail up the curve of John's spine. John moaned loudly at that, turning his head to say something. Instead, Sherlock kissed him slowly, but with an intensity that came from months upon months of pent-up lust.

“Sherlock, I-”

“Sh...” Sherlock hushed him, pressing their lips together again. “Talk later, okay? I want to, but not yet. Relax now.”

John nodded, sighing and letting Sherlock's hands soothe him in his silence.

Sherlock, as he helped ease John's aching muscles, had an ache of his own to contend with and he slowly began rocking his hips against the curve of John's arse, moaning softly as they continued to kiss. He had to stop the massage, putting his hands on John's shoulders and holding on instead. John's lips parted for him, and he gratefully slipped his tongue inside his mouth, loving the taste of him as their tongues slid together. John moaned into his mouth, sounding desperate. Sherlock could feel his hips wriggling under his own, and it added to his own pleasure wonderfully. He'd never done anything like this before, and he was getting very close very fast, sensual moans turning into gasps and whimpers. He detached their lips as he was breathing so heavily he couldn't properly kiss. “John...” He groaned, head hanging over John's shoulder. He started rocking faster, nails digging into the skin of John's shoulders.

Suddenly, John cried out, going rigid as he came in his trousers, eyes squeezed shut. That was all it took for Sherlock, moaning loudly and pressing his hips down against John, feeling a warm, sticky mess ruining his pants, and likely his trousers. He really, really didn't care though, pleasure zipping through his body like electricity. Once they were both calmed, Sherlock kissed John again, sliding off of him and lying on his side to face him. John shifted onto his side as well, wincing only slightly, the massage appearing to have helped. They kissed for a long while, staying silent except for the smack of lips and the heaviness of their breathing. Finally, Sherlock couldn't resist, pulling away and smiling at him.

“So...” He said. “Not gay?” He quirked an eyebrow at him.

John rolled his eyes. “Not gay.” He agreed, kissing him quickly again. “But... maybe a little. Only when it comes to you.”

Sherlock paused, thinking that over. It was... different, certainly not what he'd been expecting, but not unheard of and... rather flattering, when he got to the core of it. He grinned, placing his hand on John's cheek. “Sounds about right.” He said, and promptly went right back to kissing his selectively-gay best friend.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if my Rugby terms are off at the beginning, I don't know what the hell I'm talking about.  
> Originally written and submitted to a tumblr user but they didn't post it so HERE (I'm not bitter you are)  
> Had no beta, so if you see a mistake please tell me!  
> Also I'm sorry for the pun don't hate me please.


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